


The Luck of the Irish

by Ponder_ings



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 14:41:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3414488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ponder_ings/pseuds/Ponder_ings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you do when there are Leprechauns in town? Play them at their own game and hope to win. Which would all be very well if it wasn't leaving Derek seething with jealousy as he watches Stiles working the dance floor at the club and getting lots of phone numbers...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Luck of the Irish

**Author's Note:**

> For Nico. Happy birthday my beautiful unicorn. <3

 

“See, if religion is the opium of the people, then tumblr is the alcohol. Just think about it, any kind of crazy you want, right there. Any kind of answer you want, right there. Any kind of hot ladies...or men, totally men – you want, right there, any kind of porn you want, right there. It’s so like being drunk, you know...”

Derek turned his head and stared at Stiles. Did this boy ever shut up?

“Nope, no...of course you don’t know about being drunk. Werewolf, raaar, resistant to alcohol. But just imagine, you know, if you could...”

“Stiles. Shut up.” Derek turned back to the computer they were both looking at. “Show me google, google makes sense.” With an eye roll and the mimicking of a zip shutting across his mouth Stiles turned back to the computer and went back to google search.

 After four years, Derek assumed that he’d have got used to Stiles, that Stiles would have grown up a little and not driven him crazy every second of every day. Well, maybe not every second of every day, they weren’t together quite that much, Derek knew for sure he couldn’t handle that - but this was Beacon Hills and the Beacon was glowing as strong as ever, drawing all the supernatural to it like moths to a lamp, so they were together quite a lot. Even with Stiles and the rest of the pack at college. Derek had never worked out whether to be thankful of not that most of the pack had gone to the local college. Lydia being the exception of course.

“Aha, here we go, Leprechauns. Hmmm, so, not just the sweet little fellas at the end of the rainbow guarding the gold – apparently. “

Derek gritted his teeth. “We’ve already established that Stiles, what we need to know is, what are they, why they here and do we need to get rid of them.”

Stiles was blessedly quiet for a few minutes as he scanned the page. Derek kept his eyes firmly on the screen and not on all the little ticks and movements Stiles made whilst being still. This crush Derek had developed had better end soon because it was driving him mad.

In a flail of arms and twist of the computer chair (causing Stiles to nearly land on the floor, saved only by Derek’s quick reflexes) Stiles faced Derek, eyes wide.

“Affirmative, yes. Yes we do need to get rid of them.” Stiles gulped and Derek tried not to track the movement of his throat. He _definitely_ (unsuccessfully)tried not to think about that particular action after swallowing something else.

_Fuck, focus Derek._

“Okay why? What does it say?” he forced himself to speak, to concentrate on the problem at hand.

“Basically those lucky bastards are after women and money. They don’t just guard the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, they amass it. From us everyday normal people. It’s theft on a supernatural scale.”

“And the women, they help how?”

“Oh no, they’re not there for help, just for the Leprechauns to, er, enjoy.” The emphasis and accompanying raised eyebrows did nothing to help Derek’s malfunctioning libido. He swallowed hard and let his face form into its best glare.

“And?”

“And the only way to stop them is to beat them.”

“No problems,” Derek growled and let his face shift just a little.

“Yeah, not like that big guy.” Stiles slapped a hand on his back. “When has our life ever been that easy? Nope, we have to beat them at a game of their choice.”

Derek’s mind raced, he swung his chair back and paced round Stiles’ college room. “Still, shouldn’t be too hard, whatever game they choose, we’ve got a team of werewolves and other supernatural creatures handy.”

“Yep,” said Stiles. “And they’ve got the luck of the Irish.”

 

*****

Other than Derek’s pack and the five Leprechauns, the backroom of the bar they were in was empty. Stale beer, sweat and fear were the prominent smells in the room and it was all Derek could do not to wrinkle his nose up in disgust. The student lounge was bad enough when he met the college attending pack members there under forced pack-bonding exercises, but this...this was horrendous.

“So you figured us out hey boys?” The tallest Leprechaun smiled at them. “What gave us away? Our devastating good looks, wit and charm?”

Good looks, Derek would give them. Anyone who thought of Leprechauns as small wrinkled men in green clothes and oversized hats, were sorely mistaken. Well the green was correct; they definitely had a penchant for green, but the rest... Tall, built, and looking like they’d just walked out of a playgirl photo shoot, even Derek could see they were attractive.

It was enough to make anyone pissed. “No, I could smell it on you.” Derek growled before shifting, his fangs extended and claws sharp.

“Ooh boys we have a werewolf on our hands, are ya all scared?” The smug grins on all five faces was one smug grin too many and Derek growled again, slashing his claws at the ringleader. Scott, Kira, and Malia all followed suit. Stiles ducked to the side and assumed a defensive position.

Satisfaction crawled through Derek as his claws met with undeniably gorgeous features and sliced five red marks straight down the centre. The infuriating creature just grinned back, even as Derek followed up with a round house kick in his stomach. The next five minutes were claws, fangs and growling, pack against _them_ , until the Leprechauns were in a bloody heap in the centre of the room. _Huh, so google isn’t always right,_ thought Derek as he stood back, settling his features to human.

“See Stiles,” he said, looking over at him. “Sometimes just being a werewolf is enough.” He knew there was a satisfied smirk on his face, but really, he couldn’t help it.

“Er, Derek, you might want to re-consider that stance. Um, in light of new evidence...”

“Hey wolfy, I’d listen to your human if I were you. Be a good bow-bow.” Derek turned slowly and snarled. Standing in front of him were all five Leprechauns decidedly unhurt, each bearing a smug grin across their face. And, dog jokes, really? As if Stiles’ numerous attempts at humor weren’t enough to put up with. Anger pooled in his stomach and he growled again, setting off another stream of dog references which made him growl even louder and start forward to attack again.

“Really Derek, it’s not going to work...” said Stiles at the same time as the lead Leprechaun said, “We can do this all night wolfy. It won’t hurt us but it will get boring very quickly.”

“Not for us.”

“Possibly not, but you’ll tire before we will. Luck o’ the Irish, remember?”

“Told you,” said Stiles, who then had the cheek to look hurt when the entire pack shushed him. “Okay, okay, I can get a hint.”

“So how do we get rid of you then?” asked Derek.

The Leprechauns laugh in unison. “You really expect us to tell you that?”

“We have to beat you at a game.” Stiles moved forward, “So name the game.”

“Oh, very good little human, you’ve been doing your homework I see.” Stiles just gave them that look. His best one, with the questioning eyes, wrinkled forehead and ‘aren’t you a dumb-ass’ expression. The one that Derek really needs to avoid because it does very strange things to his insides.

“So, what are we going for? Cards, a little poker, or something physical? Lacrosse? Lacrosse is good...”

“I don’t think so. We need something more fun than that.” The Leprechaun’s smirk widened, “I mean, we’ve come all the way to the good old US of A for a good time. No, our game is simple really, who can get the most phone numbers on a night out.”

Wh...what?” Derek and Stiles spoke in unison.

“Just what I said, we have a night out and see who can get the most phone numbers. Me and,” he turned around and surveyed the group behind him, “Carrick against you two. Tomorrow night in town, I’ll send Ciaran with you to make sure all the numbers are got legitimately and you can send one of your pack with us for the same reason.”

“Nope, no way.” Derek crossed his arms.

The Leprechaun shrugged. “Fine by us, if you think you don’t stand a chance. We don’t really want to go anywhere anyway.”

“Hey, buddy, of course we stand a chance. We will beat your asses hands down,” Stiles said, foot before mouth as per usual. Derek cringed. He didn’t do clubbing, he didn’t do chatting up – and he didn’t do watching Stiles get hit on. Not that Stiles was going to find that out but...

“Sure thing then.  Our boy Ciaran will meet you at Roxy’s at 9pm, your boy...”

“Scott.” Stiles helpfully supplied.

“...Scott can meet us at the same time.”

Derek floundered. Not for the first time in his life, he really had no clue what to do. Unfortunately – or maybe fortunately, he was as yet undecided on this – Stiles agreed to the arrangements and the Leprechauns left, the smug looks on their faces even smugger than ever.

*****

“We can so do this Derek. I mean, I know they are all gorgeous, but they don’t have that dark brooding thing you’ve got going on. Nor the stubble, nope they’ve not got that stubble. The abs...” Stiles shrugged, “Yep, maybe they’ve got the abs in a ‘look at me I’m a pretty-boy jock’ kinda way, but everyone knows that girls prefer a bad guy. Right ladies?”

“Sure do,” said Kira, as Malia said, “Sometimes pretty-boy jocks are just what we want.”

“Not helpful.” Stiles pointed out.

“And with me there to pimp you out Derek, there is no way you will lose.”

“We will lose Stiles. We. We’re both doing this.” Even the words made Derek want to choke.

“Yeah right big guy, even I know I’m bringing nothing to the game here. Well unless we’re going to try and get numbers at comic con or something. You all look like gods, I’m outta this race from the start.”

Derek felt his blood boil. He hated it when Stiles put himself down. He hated that he couldn’t see the funny, intelligent, loyal, brave, fierce person he was. That he couldn’t count what that was worth as opposed to looks and a leather jacket. Besides, as Derek’s right hand knew well, Stiles was gorgeous in his own, big brown eyed, pale skinned way. And fuck now Derek was getting hard. “Don’t you dare.” He growled, more due to the fact that he was willing his hard-on away than through anger. “You are in this as much as me.”

“Sure thing buddy!” Stiles raised his hands before turning back to fiddling with his hair. “Aaaand, I’m done. Let’s go get you – us, totally us – some numbers.”

****

Scott had disappeared with Carrick and Cian, and Ciaran was waiting with them while they queued to get in the nightclub. Derek was scowling, despite being elbowed by Stiles and given the _get your ass in the game_ death glare and Stiles was interrogating Ciaran about Leprechauns and whether they all had names beginning with C.

The bouncers finally let them in and Stiles went to pay. He came away from the blonde at the desk with an enormous grin spread across his face. The blonde smiled and waved and Derek just scowled again.

“One down Derek, many, many more to go.” Stiles clapped him on his back and added the number into his wallet.

“See Stiles, told you you’d collect some numbers. You might even want to ring a few.” Why? Why would he say such a thing, the words as he uttered them were pretty much worse than any weapon he’d face? Even the wolfsbane laced ones.

“The number wasn’t for me idiot. I told her you thought she was hot and wondered what she was doing after work.” Ciaran smirked. Really, did Leprechauns do anything other than smirk? Derek decided saying nothing to Stiles was the best option and seriously wondered what was wrong with the girl that a glowering wreck like himself was more likely to get given a phone number than the brightness that is Stiles.

It was a good job the glowering seemed to work because as soon as they entered the dance floor and bar area Derek knew his had got about ten times worse. It wasn’t his fault, how can anyone listen to this – noise – and call it music? And he had super-hearing, so it was basically just a method of torture. He didn’t know how Isaac and Scott did it when they went out clubbing.

Luckily for him Stiles had stuck with his original modus operandum and managed to get five numbers just by telling them Derek was interested in them. Every number made him scowl a little bit more, apparently though, Stiles thought this was working in his favor.

He ordered a whiskey at the bar and knocked it back in one before getting it refilled. He couldn’t get drunk but he was as sure as hell going to give it a go. Ciaran sat on a stool a bit further down from him, drinking his own glass of whiskey and Stiles was on the dance floor, arms flailing in some approximation of dancing. It didn’t matter if he didn’t quite hit the rhythm of the music, he still looked like he was having fun.

The second whiskey slipped down as easily as the first and he got in a third, barely taking his eyes off of Stiles. Jealousy flared in his stomach as he watched a beautiful brunette, in a red dress that fitted like a second skin, write something on his arm before kissing him on the cheek. Stiles beamed and made his way over to Derek. “Ten numbers for you big guy and we’ve only been here,” he twisted his wrist so he could see his watch, “three-quarters of an hour.”

“Not bad.” Ciaran’s smirk changed into a look of condescension, frankly Derek preferred the smirk. “Especially seeing as one of you is doing all the work and the other is just getting drunk.”

“Hey. It’s teamwork buddy. Derek is doing his glowery, brooding thing and I’m reeling in the numbers for him. _Dream. Team_. I bet Cian and Carrick aren’t doing as well.”

Ciaran shrugged, “Sixteen so far, but the night is young.”

“Six...teen?” Stuttered Stiles before pulling out his phone and sending a text to Scott.

His cell buzzed almost instantly with a reply and Stiles’ face fell. He leaned into Derek, enveloping Derek in the beautiful muskiness that was pure Stiles. Derek stifled a moan.

“Come on big guy, I need you to help me out here a little. I mean,” he lowered his voice, “you want these mother-fucking Leprechauns to disappear, right?”

And he did, he really did. He could not have them roaming town, appropriating people of their money and valuables. It wouldn’t be so bad if the way they did it was totally legal and above board and the people signing over the money to them, giving them handfuls of cash and jewelry, weren’t doing so willingly. Well, as willingly as a court of law could prove. This was the only reason he allowed himself to be dragged onto the dance floor.

He hated dancing with a passion. If you could call this mindless movement to noise dancing. Give him an old fashioned waltz any day. He watched as Stiles threw heart and flailing limb into his dancing and decided that he may as well give it his all. It wasn’t like he ever had to enter this place, or see these people again.

Closing his eyes briefly he felt for the beat and started to dance....

*****

Derek was relieved when Stiles suggested moving up to the next floor. Machines had been pumping out billowing smoke for the last half an hour and, as the dancers on this floor got drunker and drunker, numbers were being obtained left, right and centre. Quite how Stiles was managing it he didn’t know…he just knew that supposedly all the numbers were for him and not for Stiles. While this made his blood boil in one way, it also stopped his blood boiling in another. _The devil and the fucking deep, as always._ For once Derek wished life was simple but, as his mother used to say, if wishes were horses then beggars would ride. Or, as Stiles so charmingly put it, wish in one hand, shit in the other and see which fills up first.

He followed Stiles up the next flight of stairs, where, thankfully, the music was mellower with less bass going on. On the dance floor bodies writhed rather than pulsed. Stiles grinned at him and headed straight to the middle of the floor. Instantly two girls had their arms all over him, running their hands up and down his shirt, grinding lightly against him. It was nowhere near as suggestive as anything he’d seen in The Jungle, but in The Jungle Stiles barely paid attention, here he was grinning from ear-to-ear and soaking it up. Fuck. It had been long months since he and Malia had decided they were really better suited to being friends. Months since Stiles had slept with anyone. Not that Derek was keeping track or anything…he wasn’t that obsessed. Much.

“Looks like he’s having fun, maybe he’ll get some numbers for himself on this floor.” Ciaran’s lazy Irish drawl was getting on Derek’s last nerve and he felt himself growl low in his throat before making his way over to Stiles.

Just because Derek didn’t like dancing, didn’t mean he wasn’t good at it. His natural litheness as a werewolf helped and he was so used to being in tune with the subtle sound of a heart-beat – his own, the pack’s, Stiles’ – that listening for the beat and reacting to it was second nature. Stiles grinned at him appreciatively and Derek’s own heart sped up, until he realized that Stiles’ grin was just because Derek’d already got another dancer moving nearer and matching his rhythm.

The girl moved in closer, linking her arms around his neck and pulling him snug. She smelt of flowers and alcohol. Not the fresh scent of flowers in the woods like primroses in spring, but the artificial stifling stench of manufactured perfume. It was an insult to his nose and took all of Derek’s effort to not push her away. She looked into his eyes and smiled – it might have been effective if it wasn’t the three-sheets-to-the-wind unfocussed gaze of someone too drunk to really know what they were doing. It went against every instinct in him to lean closer and tell her she looked beautiful. No that she didn’t, but he was fully aware he was only taking advantage of her.

She mumbled something back to him and kissed his neck. He forced himself to smile. Then he pretended his cell phone was buzzing, it didn’t take much acting to fake a phone conversation that required him to be on the other dance floor, or to procure a phone number so he could make sure they met up later, “It’s far too easy to lose someone in this club,” he said kissing her briefly on the cheek and leaving. He thanked the moon it was easy to lose someone, especially a drunk someone, when he moved to the other side of the floor and did the same act again. And again. Rinse and repeat.

Wherever he was though, he was aware of Stiles. Aware, mostly by the feeling of a giant fist wedged in his gut, of the girls whose attention he was attracting. He was so in tune with Stiles’ heart beat that even in the moments when he wasn’t sure exactly where he was he just had to focus and could pinpoint it amongst the hundreds of others present.

A handful of numbers later and Derek made his way back to Ciaran. It didn’t matter how many numbers they got though, the Leprechauns were always a number or two ahead. Scott verified it every time.

“We’re doing great,” said Stiles joining them at the bar and ordering a beer. “I’ve actually got two girls fighting over me. Me,” he pointed to himself. “Can you believe it?” Derek gritted his teeth together in order to try and stop his fangs extending.

“We’re not here for you to flirt Stiles, we’re here to get rid of the Leprechauns, if you want to get a booty call do it on your own time.” He slammed back the whiskey he’d ordered and wished, not for the first time tonight, that he was capable of getting drunk. At least that might explain the sheer rage he was feeling at the thought of Stiles and anybody here (hell anybody anywhere) getting it on.

Stiles opened his eyes wide. “Whoa. I know exactly why we’re here Derek If I can’t enjoy actually getting a little attention for once instead of always being back of the queue, you know seeing as I hang around with super buff, supernatural creatures, then excuse me.” He slammed his bottle down and went straight back to the dance floor, getting up very close and personal with a completely different girl.

“Fuck.” Derek resumed his position on the dance floor, pulling in a leather clad blonde who reminded him achingly of Erica. He pulled her close so her back was against his stomach, so her ass was moving non-too subtly against his groin. He risked a glance at Stiles…

Stiles who averted his gaze as soon as Derek turned his head, but Derek knew he’d been watching him. He watched as Stiles pulled the tiny girl he was dancing with closer and bent to whisper something in her ear. Derek strained to hear above the music, to focus, but he was too late to hear what Stiles had said, just caught the tinkling laugh that came as a reply. He also saw the smile on Stiles’ face widen, and watched as his hand tracked its way up to the girl’s long brown hair and run his fingers through it. Derek didn’t realize he’d stopped dancing until the Erica lookalike turned around with a stony look in her eyes. “If Tinkerbelle is the kind you like then you’re wasting your time with me sweetheart,” she said before turning her attention elsewhere. Derek didn’t even care that he hadn’t got her number; he was too busy watching Stiles and fighting the undeniable jealousy that was slowly seeping through his body.

He watched as her hands stroked down the side of Stiles’ face. Derek clenched his fists together, imagining exactly what it felt like to caress that pale skin. He watched as Stiles smiled again and pulled the girl closer. He watched as Stiles looked up and met his gaze, the look of defiance he wore one that Derek recognized well. One of Stiles’ hands curved round the back of the girls head, long fingers rubbing loosely as he smiled _that_ smile, the one that melted Derek’s soul. The one that was so beautiful Derek felt as if the sun shone every time Stiles smiled it.

Derek could honestly say there was no thought process involved with what happened next. One minute he was there, watching Stiles, trying to contain the green monster threatening to crawl out of his every pore. The next he was there, in front of Stiles, the girl gently pushed aside and Stiles face cradled in Derek’s hands.

Derek let his own fingers trace down Stiles’ face. Stiles opened his mouth to speak – this was Stiles, of course he opened his mouth to speak – and Derek gently placed a finger over it. He looked into Stiles’ eyes, willing him to see the feelings Derek had for him. Willing him to return them. While dancers twisted, turned and danced around them, for Derek time had stopped right there, in the middle of the dance floor. He tilted Stiles’ head up. Slowly, so slowly, giving Stiles’ every chance to step away. To say no. But he didn’t and then his mouth was on Stiles’.

Rough lips, chapped from Stiles’ habit of constantly licking them, opened under his with a small huff of disbelief. Tentatively, as if he was scared Derek was going to move away, Stiles pressed harder, licked at Derek’s lower lip, reached his own hand round Derek and pulled them close. So close. Derek gave into the subtle pressure and let his groin grind gently with Stiles. The volt that shot through him when he realized Stiles was as hard as he was, would have killed him had it been electric. And he didn’t care. Not that they were in a club, not about the Leprechauns or some stupid game. The supernatural could fuck right off – he had Stiles. Right here and right now.

Teeth grazed gently across his lip and he moaned, opening wider, letting Stiles in deeper. He let his teeth tug at Stiles’ own plump lips, bit gently as Stiles’ neck and growled softly. There was no one else, no _thing_ else, there was just Stiles. Him and Stiles. Kissing. Now. It was everything and more than Derek had known it would be. It was electricity and the sun and the rain and the call of the full moon.

It was the earth under his feet.

It was the stars in the sky.

It was the musky scent that was unique to Stiles. The quiet moans half uttered. It was the feel of soft skin, of overly washed cotton, of long fingers pulling him closer. It was want and yearning and need. It was more than arousal.

It was everything.

“Stiles…” the moan was quiet but he knew Stiles would hear, even without the advantage of werewolf super-hearing. Stiles just pressed deeper into him and…

“Well this is a turn of events I wasn’t expecting gentlemen and I’m not easily surprised if I do say so myself.” Never had Derek felt the urge to punch someone quite as much as he wanted to punch Ciaran at that point. Not even when Peter was at his most asshole-ish.

“I’m a big advocate of true love and all that myself but I’m seeing some pretty pissed ladies here who don’t seem quite so happy that you too are getting it on in the middle of the dance floor.

Derek forced his eyes open, forced himself to move a step back – though he couldn’t quite make himself to leave go of Stiles completely.

“You bastard.” Tinkerbelle lifted her purse and whacked Stiles across the chest with it.

“Ouch,” said Stiles rubbing at the area, his eyes bearing that still unfocused look of pure lust.

“If you’re gay why were you trying to get my phone number?”

“Not gay, bi,” answered Stiles, as if that was the most important part of the question.

“Gay, bi…I don’t fucking care. You’re obviously in love with this…this…” her hands waved up and down in front of Derek, “absolutely gorgeous specimen of a human being, I can totally see why you are making out with him, but why get my phone number. My phone number is _not_ going to make someone like him jealous.” Derek cringed at the note of self-hate that was in the girl’s voice. A note that reminded him all too strongly of Stiles.

“You’re gorgeous,” he found himself saying to the girl. “You shouldn’t put yourself down like that.” And though it wasn’t his intention it actually stopped the girl in her tracks.

Stiles, Stiles who never usually shut up, actually seemed lost for words and Derek found himself speaking – using his words, as Stiles was so fond of telling him to do.

“I’m sorry, it’s my fault. He, er, he didn’t know how I felt. I know he really likes you.” The girl’s look softened slightly, the fierceness and hurt almost gone, understanding taking over…until another voice pipes up over the music.

“Well, if that’s the case, why did he whisper sweet nothings and get my phone number too?”

It kind of went to hell from there.

*****

Thank goodness for plan B.

*****

A quick text to Scott that simply said plan B and Derek grabbed Stiles, left Ciaran and the crowd of _slightly_ pissed ladies behind and left.  At the Camero, Derek fisted the front of Stiles’ shirt, walked him back so he was leaning against the car and claimed his mouth once more. He claimed it frantically, passionately, telling Stiles with all he had that this was it. Stiles was it for Derek. He’d wasted too long _not_ kissing him, now he was going to make up for it. Forcing himself to pull back he looked at Stiles, drank him in; the dark eyes, more open and vulnerable than Derek had ever seen, the mouth, puffy with kisses.

“This is all I want Stiles. _You_ are all I want. I don’t want to play games, but I don’t want to force you. I need to know that it is your choice. That I’m not asking for one night, I’m asking for every night. I promise not to hurt you Stiles, but I need to know this is what you want too.

And Stiles, never-shut-the-fuck-up Stiles, just nodded and said, “It’s all I want too Derek.”

*****

Derek had managed to strip Stiles before they’d made it to the bedroom. He thought his heart might actually stop at the sight of him naked. Broad shoulders and long, lean legs. Smooth skin dotted with freckles and moles. Tight hard nipples that Derek longed to tongue and a cock, cut, hard and leaking that smelt of pure Stiles and was making Derek harder than he’d ever been before.

“Come on big guy, I’m not entirely sure it’s fair to make me stand here totally naked when all this gloriousness is still covered up.” Stiles waved his hand in front of Derek and Derek could sense the need Stiles had to cover himself up, could feel the self-doubt leaking from the other man as fast as the pre-come dripping from his cock.

“Don’t you ever put yourself down,” Derek said, unbuckling his belt. “You are so fucking gorgeous. He pushed his pants off and yanked his T-shirt over his head. “So fucking gorgeous.” He licked a stripe up Stiles’ neck stopping at his ear and nibbling gently. The groan Stiles emitted was pure filth and every decibel resonated in Derek’s cock, at this rate he was going to come before Stiles had even laid a finger on him.

Derek let his fingers brush over the tight nubs of Stiles’ nipples, longing to pull that sound from him again. He wasn’t disappointed. By the time he had pushed Stiles back on to the bed and used his teeth and tongue to explore most of Stiles’ body, Stiles was begging uncontrollably for more.

“Don’t you dare stop Derek. Harder. I need more. Fuck…”

“More like this?” Derek asked, tonguing the end of Stiles’ cock before engulfing the whole of it in his mouth.  Stiles arched his back and moaned so loudly, so deeply, that Derek was sure the other wolves could hear him from wherever they were and know exactly what they were doing. Derek didn’t care if they could, he needed to hear that noise again.

Deep groans and touches – both feather light and hard scratches. Heat, and come and tongues everywhere. Derek licked over Stiles hole, rubbing with his tongue, holding Stiles’ hips firmly so he couldn’t writhe away. Spit-slicked fingers, then ones covered in lube, felt and searched and stretched until neither man could wait any longer and Derek pushed his cock into Stiles’ tight hole. Waiting, waiting, waiting…and watching until the pain that flared had passed and Stiles started moving beneath him, bucking up to meet Derek’s thrusts, each movement more frantic, more full of need than the one before.

Each movement bringing them closer. Making them more than Stiles and Derek. Joining them. Until Derek’s balls ached with the need to spill and Stiles cock hardened and pumped out between them and Derek’s cock swelled even more and he was coming. Coming so fucking hard. He whimpered, he’d never felt like this before. Finally he finished. Dropping gently onto Stiles before kissing him, delighting in the debauched, exhausted, totally ruined look on Stiles face.

“Der, I need to clean up a bit,” Stiles eventually whispered, eyes glancing at the come drying over his stomach. Derek moved to pull out, surprised he was still hard enough to be in Stiles after coming that much, when he found he couldn’t. Stiles yelped and clutched Derek’s ass. “Stop, no Derek, don’t move.”

“What the…?” said Derek lifting enough of off Stiles that he could look in the other man’s eyes. “What is wrong with your asshole?”

Stiles looked confused. He frowned and tried to move back a little, squeezed his eyes tight shut at the pain before stilling. Then a look that Derek recognized all too well came over his face. The look that said _I know what the hell is happening here and if you’re lucky enough I might tell you._

“Stiles? What the hell is happening?”

“Um, Derek have you ever heard of knotting?” asked Stiles, before grinning broadly.

*****

**_ The next day _ ** _._

“I can’t believe the plan worked,” Derek said, as they watched the Leprechauns drive out of Beacon Hills. A little help from Deaton ensured they wouldn’t be anywhere in a two hundred miles radius anytime this century.

“Of course it worked, it was a good plan,” said Stiles, moving closer to Derek.

“The girls were happy to help,” added Kira. “Especially when they heard what creeps those boys were and how they’d boasted they could get any girl in town.”

Derek smiled, a slight bending of the truth maybe, but that, a crowd of angry girls willing to play along and some Deaton approved disappearing ink worked wonders. The Leprechauns had no proof that they’d gotten the amount of phone numbers they’d claimed to and Scott swore blind he hadn’t seen more than the total they’d counted at the end of the night.

“What happened anyway?” asked Kira, “Why did plan B need to be put into place?” Just as she asked the wind changed and the look on Scott and Malia’s faces told Derek they knew perfectly well what had changed. Being the kind hearted pack member he was, Derek didn’t want Kira (and her less sensitive nose) to feel left out, so he reached forward and pulled Stiles to him, muffling the surprised shout with his mouth and swallowing the forthcoming moan whole.

“About time.” Derek heard Scott say, until time did that standing still thing again and all there was, was Stiles.

**_The End_ **


End file.
